


You Are The Ocean, and You're Pulling Me Back

by Cup_of_Lou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cutting, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Multiple Personalities, OCD, Social Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_of_Lou/pseuds/Cup_of_Lou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I found that the<br/>sadness was growing,<br/>and it seemed to come out<br/>over silly little things<br/>like the rain.<br/>Or burnt toast<br/>at seven in the morning.<br/>And even missed calls,<br/>on sunny warm days,<br/>and those things<br/>summoned the monster<br/>that had made its home<br/>in my soul.</p><p>(AU Where the gang is in a mental hosptial and Harry thinks that Louis may be the sunshine to pull him out of the clouds.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying a new writing style!

I could say it all

started on a rainy day.

With thick, angry,

black clouds that

blocked out the sun,

and I thought that

was sad.

I looked out my window

and saw the rain

beating

hard

on cars

and people

and I thought that

was kind of sad too.

 

I had no reason

to be as sad as I was,

I didn’t own the car,

and I didn’t know the people,

but inside of me

I found that the

sadness was growing,

and it seemed to come out

over silly little things

like the rain.

Or burnt toast

at seven in the morning.

And even missed calls,

on sunny warm days,

and those things

summoned the monster

that had made its home

in my soul.

 

And I also found

that a beer in hand,

in mouth,

chased the sadness away,

just long enough

for my smile to come out again.

Sun peaking over the clouds.

But then the sun

went back into hiding,

and I made

feverish attempts

to get another bottle in hand,

nursing the bottle

like a lifeline.

And it worked

to keep the sadness at bay,

so I could feel the warm rays

on my cheeks again.

  
  


It worked.

Briefly.

But then the sadness returned

wearing that evil smirk

and it gave me a wave

letting me know it was back

to burn more toast.

And my immediate reaction

was to find the nearest beer

to chase the feeling away

with a forceful hand.

 

This cycle continued,

and I became trained,

like a dog,

to chase away the dark

angry clouds

with a nice

cold

beer.

I would drink,

drink,

drink,

till there was nothing left

in the bottle,

and in me.

 

It started,

a beer in the morning,

afternoon,

and night,

so I could ignore

the grey faced monster

that stared back in the mirror.

But soon one became too little,

and I had to take another beer

to see the green in my eyes

instead of the lifeless grey

that was fighting

its way through.

 

One turned to two,

to three,

to four,

and it became five in the morning,

five at noon,

and five at night,

till I couldn’t see straight,

and my wallet became ghostly thin

like me.

 

And I was happy.

I could value the warmth

the sun,

without Mr. Sadness

ruining all the fun.

But my friends weren’t happy.

My family wasn’t happy.

 

They said I was

an Alcoholic.

Like I was sick,

which was a lie.

I was better,

better than when

the grey monster

showed up

to take hostage of my body

and show that everything

was black

that clouds shrouded everything,

even the hall lights.

And I didn’t want that,

so I self-medicated,

so what?

I was fine.

But mum said I wasn’t.

She became offended

when I referred to alcohol

as a welcomed friend,

a lifeline,

and we fought often

on how bad I was getting.

 

“No mum,” I’d argue,

“This is better than the alternative”

I was nursing another

friend,

draining him,

till my head was buzzing

with happiness

and everything

over than

sadness.

 

“What alternative,

having a healthy son?”

Her angry voice would ring loud

in my ears.

Almost as loud

as the pounding

of Mr. Sadness’ fist

on the walls of my brain,

yelling

‘Honey, I’m home!’.

So I would take another swig

of the brown bottle

I called my friend.

“You act like there’s

no other solution

to your depression”

 

Depression?

I didn’t have depression,

I would say with drunken speech

that faltered

only slightly.

I was just sad at silly little things

like spilt juice

and dirty clothes

and broken glasses on tiled floor.

Thats not depression,

I would scream

trying to one up

Mr. Sadness,

but he always won

in screaming fights.

 

“So then why do you drink so much?”

She would grab at my bottle,

my baby,

and I would slap her

greedy hand

away.

 

“I just don’t like being sad

over such

silly little things.”

My voice would become slow

become quiet,

and I would look up at her

with my dulling green eyes

and tell her

“I just want warmth

and Mr. Sadness doesn’t

allow

such a thing

in his household.”

 

And the fire in her eyes

was put out

and exchanged

for wicked sympathy

as she dialled the number

for the nearest

Mental Hospital

and made it so I was staying there.

 

I was screaming

pleading

begging

“Don’t make me go

I’ll get better

I promise!”

 

But she didn’t listen

she wore the same

evil smirk

as Mr. Sadness.

Well, maybe not,

but it looked that way

with my vision blurring

my head spinning.

Maybe she was just

wearing a friendly smile

like my brown glass friend

who I cradled that night

as she packed away

all my clothes

like the happiness

Mr. Sadness

said no to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I woke up

to another clouded morning

with a blinding headache

and no brown bottled friend

in my hand.

 

Instead of his warmth,

his addictive taste,

I was given two pills by my bedside

both white and mocking

with a glass of cold water

as Mr. Sadness looked over

my shoulder

and laughed.

 

“Come on Harry,

You should wake up.”

Liam would prod my shoulder

with his finger stiff,

after I had downed

my two pills,

like I was a diseased freak

who gave off plague

more than anything else.

 

“I don’t want to.”

I would say

more to my pillow

than to him, as I tried,

and failed,

to suffocate myself

with the feather light material.

 

“Get up so I

can at least

make your bed.”

He would plead,

voice shaking like his hands

as  his OCD started

to claim his body

like Mr. Sadness claimed mine

every

single

night.

 

And I would get up

out of sympathy,

and I would stand

in the corner of the room

while I watched his OCD

take control,

a hungry monster finding its meal,

as he tucked in corners,

flattened sheets,

smoothed pillows,

until it was absolutely perfect

and he could take his deep breath

of sunshine

that I ached for.

 

“Thank you Harry.”

He would tell me with meaning

like he truly meant it

and I knew he did

because he had just tasted

his five beers

for the morning

to keep

Mr. OCD at bay

for a couple more hours.

 

And after I gave him

his needed drug

I would change,

aching for my drug to come,

out of light grey sweatpants

and into black or navy sweatpants,

depending on how nice

Mr. Sadness was being.

And I would chose from

dark grey and black

for a shirt

depending

on Mr. Sadness.

 

Both Liam and I

would pull on our

slippers,

white and without flaws,

to make our way to breakfast,

a meal just as bland

as the whitewashed walls

and waxed white tiled floor.

 

And this is where we

filled into our daily routines.

 

We would walk,

side by side,

with no conversation

because silence was

so much better

than forced words.

And we would file

into the cafeteria line

with light blue trays

held in white knuckled hands

as we received our meals

from the nice old ladies

with hair nets and plastic gloves.

 

And after our plates

were stacked full

of food that tasted

stale and worthless

like us

we would move through

the crowds of mentally ill

to find out table

in the back of the room.

 

At it sat our only two friends

if I could even call them that.

We would all sit around

the circular table

and eat

with little

to no

conversation.

 

You had Zayn,

who was also Mary,

the housewife who loved everyone,

and Steve,

the football loving maniac with a heart of gold,

and also happened to be

Peter, the loving father of none but was happy that way.

He was Zayn

and Mary

and Steve

and Peter,

because he had multiple personalities,

and all of them were great,

while my only one

was horrible

and wrecked

and broken beyond assistance.

  
  


And you had Niall,

who didn’t say much

and even if he wanted to

he wouldn’t

because he had Selective Mutism

and only sat with us because

he roomed with Zayn

and Mary told Zayn

to tell Niall

to eat with us,

everyday.

He’s very nice, always has a smile

even if it’s strained,

and even if he doesn't talk

he holds the best conversations

out of everyone here.

At least in my mind.

 

But today

there was three

three people at our table

not two,

but three.

 

I could sense Liam’s uneasiness

as he set down his tray,

organizing the napkins,

his juice,

and his cutlery,

before pulling out his chair and sitting down.

 

“Everyone, this is Louis.

Louis, this is Liam

and Harry.”

I could tell by Zayn's voice

that he was actually Peter now

and Peter had a hand

clasped around Louis back.

 

Louis was nice looking.

His hair looked neat

his eyes still sparkled

but not with happiness

with fear.

I noticed

he was shaking,

his clothes had places where

he was constantly tugging

and those same sparkling

blue eyes

darted around our faces

with fear

and I could hear his breath

ragged and shaking.

 

“Louis has Social Anxiety

so be nice to him boys.”

Peter was giving a thin lined smile

and we all knew

not to cross him on that.

 

“Hi Louis.”

When he heard my words,

quiet and scarce,

his eyes jumped to me,

growing wide with nothing

other than

fear.

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles.”

I would have stuck out my hand,

but something told me

that would make him run

run for the hills

or anything further than that.

 

“There’s an odd number.”

Liam directed his whispered words

to me,

to his side

and I could only nod,

for Louis was still staring at me

Blue eyes piercing green ones

that had died

long ago.

 

“It’s okay Liam,

it’ll be fine.”

There was no use

with comforting  Mr. OCD

because Mr. OCD

didn’t like listening to reason

hell,

he didn’t think anything of it,

because there was still an odd number

and that wasn’t good

because you couldn’t split that evenly

into a whole number

and whole numbers were good

but decimaled or fraction numbers were bad

bad

odd numbers were bad

and five was uneven.

 

“It’s fine Liam.”

Now Peter was Mary,

rushing over to rub Liams back

because now Liam was heaving

sharp

pained breaths

that hurt even Niall

who munched on an apple

in utter silence

as he watched

what was going on.

 

“I can just leave.”

Louis spoke quietly,

almost unnoticed.

And his voice,

his voice was angelic

perfectly untainted

by the flaws

of mental disabilities.

 

“Nonsense, Louis,

you stay right there.”

I liked Mary’s voice the best

out of all of Zayns personalities

because it was sweet

and a few octaves higher than Zayns

but it was nice

and soothing

and motherly

and it kept us all a step higher

than rock bottom.

 

“No, I don’t want to be

a bother.”

He was standing now,

taking a full tray in hands

that were too small

to be shaking

that badly.

 

“No, Marys right.”

My voice was confident,

something that it had not been

in months

as I directed it to Louis

whose face was stunned.

“Sit. You’re helping Liam’s progression to healthiness.”

I said the words that all of us had heard

time and

time again

from shrinks and nurses

doctors and staff,

and even Niall nodded along to what we all knew

was true.

 

“Are you sure?”

He squeaked

like a child

a scared,

hopeless child

with no where to go.

 

“Positive.”

Mary looked to Niall

who nodded furiously

like his head was going

to roll off his shoulders

any minute now.

 

“Okay.”

He gently set his tray down

eyes trained on Liams shaking figure

as he muttered nonsense

and Mary rubbed his back

while whispering the usual

things into his ear.

 

And we settled like that,

Mary morphing into Zayn

slowly

as Liam came to terms

with five at our table

rather than four

an odd number

rather than an even

and he was soon able to finish his breakfast

with Zayn taking his seat next to Niall

who patted his knee with a firm grasp

and Zayn,

quiet, normal, Zayn,

began to pick at the disgusting pancakes

stacked five high

on his tray.

 

Silence was comfort here

in the house of the insane.

You didn’t have to talk

to keep up a boring conversation

you just had to be in the presence of others

too feel safe

and secure.

 

Even Mr. Sadness seemed to respect

that I had friends

and he let me eat,

alone,

in the mornings, noons and nights,

but other than meals,

he pestered me,

his fingers jabbing into my brain

the sharp nails scraping

scraping

scraping

at the walls of my head

whenever I was alone.

But as long as I could eat

feeling like a normal person

I felt kind of okay.

Just only kind of.

 

“Thanks.”

Louis broke the silence

his words shaky

as they parted the blanket

of blue sounding silence.

His voice made us all

stop

and look

as he gave a clear gulp

and a very

very

small smile

to let us know he meant it

 

“No problem.”

I responded for everyone when

I spoke

and Louis only shook his head

a small nod

almost invisible

taking his tray

and walking away.

 

“He’s just getting adjusted.”

Zayn rose his head

from where it was focused

on the bits of leftover pancakes

taking a small sliver of cut up apple

and biting into it

with a satisfying crunch.

“Just give him time.”

And that we would.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Come on Harry,

give me more here,

talk to me.”

Mr. Venter was looking at me

with careless blue eyes

and tapped his pen at me

from his fancy chair

in the corner

while I had to sit

in the uncomfortable

armchair

as he stared me down

with his careless blue eyes.

 

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

That was a lie.

A big,

fat,

juicy lie

that sat heavy in the air

but I didn’t care

hell

I didn’t care about anything anymore

but I couldn't tell

Mr. Venter about that

because that means another pill

in the mornings

and I don’t think

I want that.

So I lied.

A big fat lie

that he didn’t catch on to.

Or maybe he did,

but either way

he didn’t write it down

on that stupid

yellow

notepad.

 

“Harry, this is therapy

You’re here to talk about your feelings.”

I feel like I need a beer

or a shot of Tequila

or maybe a whole bottle

of crystal clear Vodka

to burn away Mr. Sadness

just so I can feel happy again.

 

“What feelings?”

This was a constant game.

He would ask questions

I would either stare at him

give a vague answer

or retort with another

braindead question

that I thought up on the spot

just to fuck with him.

 

“Harry, don’t play stupid with me.

Tell me how you’re doing,

how you're really doing,

what you want, what's going on in your life.”

He was persistent

itching for a way into my

guarded walls

and that was usual

that’s what everyone wanted to do

but I denied them access

everytime.

He just wanted

something to scribble down

On that yellow fucking notepad.

 

“I met a new person.”

My mind couldn’t catch up

to stop my mouth

from uttering those words.

The look that flooded Mr. Venters face

was relief,

a breakthrough

with dear Harry Styles.

I wonder if this would be

coffee break

conversation.

 

“How splendid!”

His pen was now scratching,

scribbling,

on that bloody

yellow

notepad

in angry blue ink,

that made me twitch

from annoyance

across the room.

“Tell me about this said person.”

His face was trying its best

at false happiness,

an emotion he lost

long ago

and I wondered why

I was here,

locked away

and he was the one

in the clear.

 

“His name is Louis.”

More fucking scribbling

on that fucking yellow

notepad

and if I wasn’t already crazy

I think the scribbling

would turn me down

that winding road of instability.

 

“Oh, Louis Tomlinson.”

His words lacked compassion

as he spit out the name

like a ruined project.

“He was admitted last night

with Social Anxiety.”

He said it like it would turn me away

make me hate him

when really

I felt like I had found

a little ray of sunshine

locked

inside a scared boy

who hid behind an anxiety.

 

“And?”

I felt challenging,

wanting him to explain to me

why having a disorder was bad

when I was the one with

a disorder.

But he didn’t respond,

his eyes seeing to bore holes

in that fucking yellow notepad,

like he was writing a narrative in his head

with the blue pen he pressed

to his dry, cracking lips.

 

“Oh, nothing, I was just surprised is all.”

More bloody scribbling as I groaned

from across the room.

But he didn’t look up

from where he was

writing god knows what

down on paper.

 

“Surprised at what?”

More challenging.

Oh dear Mr. Venter,

please

make your move.

 

“Just at the fact he made friends.”

And how,

how,

can you say it so simply

like saying the sky is blue

because I know for a fact

that the sky

can be

a whole range

of colors

and you can’t just judge

poor ol' Louis Tomlinson

because of one minor

or major

flaw of the mind.

 

“He’s not all that bad.”

I shrugged

my shoulders rising and sinking

like the ocean

like the color

that filled his eyes.

 

“I’ll hold you to your word.”

He meant it as a joke

I could see he meant it as a joke

but it felt like a stab

a stab with a sharp knife

into my stomach

because he just downgraded Louis.

Poor,

scared,

Louis,

who was willing to leave

than have Liam have a panic attack.

The Louis who was going

through a hell of a time

while you,

Mr. Venter,

you’re only problem

is that your shift

doesn’t end

soon enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey guys.”

I took my usual seat

next to Liam

on my right

and Niall

on my left

across from Zayn

and now diagonal from Louis.

  
  


“Hey mate!”

So I guess today

we were eating with Steve

who had his face buried

in a turkey sandwich,

his mouth

showing full display

of his half chewed food.

He was my least favorite,

his attitude and personality

was just a total turn off

for me and almost everyone else

though Liam was too nice

to admit it.

“How was therapy today?”

 

“Fine.”

I pretended not to feel

Louis eyes

boring into me

like sharp

blue

lasers

at the question.

He must be in therapy too,

he seemed much worse

than me, but then again,

I buried my problems

with booze.

 

“Doesn’t sound fine mate.”

Steve was loud

too loud

and I could feel the headache

pounding

beating

just like Mr. Sadness’ fists

in my head.

“Come on young Harold, tell the crowd

what went down in Therapy.”

He said it like I had assaulted Mr. Venter

when in fact

I only did that in my mind.

 

“Just leave it Steve.”

I was done.

Well, not really, but

I just didn't want to feel

Louis stare

get any more intense.

I became brave

turning my gaze

to look him in the eyes

those same eyes

that pulled me back and forth

with the tide.

I, gross seaweed,

as at the complete willpower

of the ocean.

“And how are you today Louis?

Adjusting well?”

 

I was making eye contact,

I knew that I was,

but it was like he blinked

and he was back

staring at me no longer with blue,

ocean eyes,

but scared eyes

of crystal ice.

He was scared,

his chest heaving,

but I still wanted my answer.

 

“Are you...are you talking to me?”

He made a point of looking around him,

like my eyes were lazy

and couldn’t quite look to the person

I had directed my words too.

 

“Yes you silly.”

I gave my best attempt at a smile

and even Liam noticed

his used to be

straight face

lighting up

at the sight of light

coming onto my face.

 

“Oh, uh, it was fine. I’m fine.”

He spoke those words

those words we’ve all spoken

millions of times before,

and he almost did sound fine.

 

“And how are you adjusting? I heard you're new.”

Go big or go Home,

my mind said to me

in cocky letters

before my eyes

like the Hollywood sign.

 

“I...I have to go.”

His chair made a horrible

ear bleeding

screech

as it slid on tiled floor,

faces turning to look at us

with wide eyes.

He stood quickly

with his tray in hand

as he scooted his way

out of our table

and to the trash cans

where he threw away even the tray

and rushed out

of the cafeteria

like his life

depended on it.

 

“Good going mate.”

Steve was laughing now

big,

rude

boisterous laughs

that echoed off the walls

and flooded our ears unwillingly,

and I knew now

why I really,

really,

really

hated Steve.

 

 

* * *

 

 

During free time

at exactly three twenty four

I realized that I had a crush

on newbie Louis Tomlinson.

It wasn’t hard to figure out

when I spent most of my free time

thinking about the lad.

His limited speech,

his face that could clearly

show which emotion

he was feeling,

even his oceanic eyes

that I wanted to swim in,

he was on my mind for all of two hours

in one way or another,

and then after those two hours

came to a halt

I secretly thought about him

when I was ‘watching’

the movie

set in front of me

along with twenty other people

who surely didn’t care.

 

And it was the first time

in a long time

that I was sober

and Mr. Sadness

didn’t let out

his manaic laugh

to let me know he existed.

Because in all of two hours,

plus some,

I was able to think about

LOUISLOUISLOUIS

without any pestering

from Mr. Sadness.

 

“I think I like Louis.”

My voice startled Liam

out of his reading trance

and he was quick to slide the bookmark

into the book

and close it before looking up at me

with tired brown eyes.

Tired from lack of sleep

tired from being here

just plain tired.

  
  


“Oh, do you now?”   
He gave a small

simple smile

and that was the equivalent

to a toothy grin

in a mental hospital.

If it weren’t for our dulled emotions,

this would be the same

as a schoolgirl crush confession.

 

“Yeah. I can’t get over his eyes.”

I placed my hands

under my thighs

and swung my legs over the side of the bed

a perfect movie scene

if it wasn’t for the white landscape

that surrounded us.

 

“They are something.”

He admitted, solemnly

eyes wandering to look out

out the window

out the door

out of anywhere where it wasn’t here.

Because every monday,

at this time,

five thirty six,

he got homesick

and tired

of this place

we were stuck in.

It was like clockwork

and it was creepy clockwork at that.

 

“Do you think he likes me?”

I was talking

for the sake of talking

and I think Liam

was silently thanking me

with his eyes

at the current distraction.

 

“Well you two did just meet, so I doubt so.

Plus his condition makes having a crush

kind of hard.”

There you go Liam, I thought,

thank you for steadying me

away from my reckless thoughts

of kissing in the rain

and holding hands under a table

and cuddling in bed,

because we were damaged goods

and no one would ever think of putting

a negative

with another negative.

“But maybe.”

You can always count on Liam

to give at least one good side.

 

“Do you think?”

I released a thin smile,

and Mr. Sadness granted me that

through gritted fangs.

 

“Its possible.”

And with that,

he extracted the bookmark

from his impossibly thick novel

and continued to read

and pretended to be anywhere but here

and I wished

oh how I wished

I could do that too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

LOUIS TOMLINSON PLEASE REPORT TO THE OFFICE

The announcement caught

us all off guard

at dinner,

and all four of us

shared looks of confusion.

Immediately

Mr. Sadness was feeding

sickening ideas

into my head

and I shook my curls

to toss the ideas away.

 

“What could he have done

to get called to the Office

on his first day?”

Dinners we usually got Zayn back

which was nice

seeing as lunch

was a disaster.

 

“Maybe he hurt someone.”

Liams voice was quiet,

soft,

and Niall nodded along

enthusiastically

at his words

wishing he could say them

by the look of longing

he held in his eyes.

His sadness was undetermined

because no one dared ask

what made him so quiet,

and he prefered it that way

because that way

he could feel

just a little bit normal.

 

“He doesn’t seem the type.”

Zayn was speaking, I knew that

but I was finding fascination

with how Liam

separated his mixed vegetables

into peas

and carrots

and corn,

in three different piles

on his plate.

 

“But then again, we don't really know him.”

Zayn had a habit

of answering himself

probably a side effect

of having four different

personalities.

 

“He doesn't seem the type.”

I spoke up,

finishing my copycat words

like they held importance

over Zayns.

But I think

saying them

with a forkful of mashed potatoes

doesn't scream authority.

“He has problem enough talking to people,

I doubt he would risk hurting someone.”

 

“Corner a tame animal and you

will be amazed at what it does

when it feels trapped.”

Liam was quoting some book

one book out of the many

he has organized on his shelves,

and the quote perfectly placed in to

the conversation.

"Even the most tame of cats

will extends its claws

when it has nowhere to go."

 

"But could he really throw a punch

shaking as bad as he does?"

I had to say that

because I couldn't love a criminal

and even Mr. Sadness agreed

because violence

was never the answer

And he only permitted me

to love someone

who was as mentally insane

as I was.

 

"You bring up a good point."

Zayn was saying

and I pretended

not to see

the look of adoration

flooding his eyes

as he watch Liam

carefully eating away

each pile

because moments like those

aren't meant for three.

And I watched

wishing I had someone

who looked at me

like that

 

"Hmph."

The conversation was over

but Mr. Sadness was

demanding

to have the last word.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Trying to sleep

in the hospital of the insane

was always hard

with the screaming

and the crying

and the all around

but it became even more

of an unwinnable struggle

before I was put

on this new medication.

 

‘This will help you’

they said

voices lacking

any source of affection

of caring.

‘It’s going to take away the headaches’

they said

like anything could ever

really do just that.

Well one thing

they deliberately left out

was that it came with

the restless nights

that I couldn’t seem to shake away.

And Mr. Sadness always thought

that now

was a good time

to have a fiesta in my head.

 

So instead of sleeping

I stood

cracking my joints

as they screamed in protest

and slipped on

clean socks

to make my way

down the personless corridor

to the garden

that was the only place

I could actually breathe in.

 

Some nights

I would be stopped by a nurse

who would usher me back to bed

with a soft hand pressed to my back

but tonight was not that night

because I slipped into the coldness

the darkness

of a December night

untouched.

And I wished for a jacket

but mine was being washed

so I just hugged myself tighter

as Mr. Sadness

chuckled

at my pathetic structure

which lacked muscle

and fat

and anything

that would help me out

tonight.

 

“Shut up.”

I said aloud

my voice a child's

in the dark abyss

of a frosted night

that Mr. Sadness called home.

 

“Make me.”

His voice was leaking venom

stinging my ears

and I couldn’t help

but cringe

 

But he stopped

he was nice enough to do that

as I stared up into the sky

looking at the stars

that were just out of reach.

They were so bright

so happy

and if I had any more tears

I would be crying

but I ran out of tears long ago.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr here! cup-of-lou.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

Monday was okay,

I guess,

okay to my standards.

I fell asleep

at four in the morning

with my fingers turned to ice

as they curled

into my blanket

that was just too thin

and my toes blocks of the same substance

layered in five pairs of socks

but that was normal

I guess.

 

And so I slept,

until Liam had to wake me up

with the sunlight

aimed right between my eyes

while shoving me

two pills

in a thin paper cup

and I thanked him

for his kindness

but I also thanked

someone

that there was just two pills

in that stupid

paper cup

instead of three.

 

Tuesday was the same

as the day before

with Mr. Sadness barley at bay

except Louis wasn’t back

for breakfast

or lunch

or dinner

and Zayn was nervous

Mary was scared

Peter was very worried

and Steve was just happy to have room

to spread out his feet.

Liam was a little cautious

but still happy

because there were four

at our table

instead of five.

I was worried too

but I didn’t worry too much

because that would be another sadness

to add to my load

and I knew I wouldn't want that

kind of ammo

at Mr. Sadness’ fingertips.

 

Wednesday I didn’t have therapy alone

with Mr. Venter

and his stupid yellow notepad

in that musky office

that always smelt of old men.

But instead

I had group therapy

where I was the most normal

out of a group of seven

and it was run

by sweet old Anna Clare Davis

who volunteered during the week

at our rinky dink

mental hospital.

And she would be there

to ask us

to tell

the group

of seven psychopaths,

of seven rinky dink psychopaths

how we felt we were

"getting better".

But she didn’t understand

why I was so quiet

and I didn’t exactly blame her.

 

And again,

Louis was missing,

and now even Niall was worried

for the new boy

who shook when he spoke.

Niall's eyes were asking

in raised tones

the same question

on everyone's tongue,

the question too sticky

to roll off.

And now I allowed myself to worry

because now it had been two days

and Louis was still MIA

and it was because I cared

for the first time in a long time

I cared about him,

the boy with social anxiety,

and now he was gone

but only Liam

truly knew why

my eyes were so jittery.

 

“I wonder where Louis is.”

I voiced

after hours of silence

that was not comfortable

anymore

because someone had to say it

right?

Someone had to notice

the boy with no friends

was missing.

 

“I bet he pulled a suicide scare.”

Tonight we were eating with Steve

and I hated Steve

I really

really

really

hated Steve

because he was too loud

his mouth was constantly open

and filled with half-chewed food

and he always thought of the worst.

“You only go MIA for this long if you pulled

a suicide scare.”

I wanted to punch Steve

right in his stupid Steve face.

 

But I wouldn't do that.

I couldn't do that,

because that meant hurting

sweet Mary

with the knowing stare

and Peter

who always knew what to say

and Zayn

who was just an alright bloke in general

and they didn’t deserve the pain

that Steve caused

so I remained with my hands

clenched

under the table

as Steve made his point.

 

“I heard of a time a guy tried to cut his wrists out

in a bathroom stall

and he was kept locked down

for a month.”

He spit the time limit

like we wouldn’t see Louis

till we were all in our forties.

But I knew when Steve blabbered

and I wanted

I tried

to block him out

but every word

was piercing its way

through my ears

and I was scared

I was scared for Louis

the boy with wide eyes

wide

ocean

eyes

and the possibility

he would hurt himself.

 

But the scariest thing

that lurked in my mind

was the question

Why?

 

 

* * *

 

 

I could tell

before I even opened my eyes

to peak at hell

on my doorstep

that today

was not

in any way,

shape, or form

my day.

 

Instead of Liam’s hands

warm and soft

gentle and caring

on my shoulders

shaking me awake

with soft words

that I never quite understood,

I awoke to screaming

from the schizophrenic

who went by the name

of Bird Eyes

in the room

two hallways down.

Her words I could hear

crystal clear

and her words

were not something

I should be waking up to.

And the shouting

from alarmed nurses

trying to calm

coo-coo Bird Eyes

blasted through

our closed door

like war sirens

and I couldn't

hold in the groan

that was fighting

to be heard.

 

It was when I was covering my ears

with the too thin pillow

hoping

pleading

for one more hour of sleep

to dull the throbbing

that was a constant beat

in my unstable brain

that I felt the stiffness

in my limbs

and the coldness

numbing my toes and fingers

and I realized

that my body wasn't pleading

for sleep

but it was pleading

for booze.

 

At this point

Mr. Sadness had awoken

and he was doing his usual catcalling

laughing

pointing

saying

his usual morning wake up call

like the trumpet

for an army.

 

“Come on, Dear Harry,

please wake up. I want to

talk to you about how you’re

such a useless, good for nothing,

son of a whore,

and I can’t really do that

while your eyes are closed,

now can I? Didn’t you learn any manners

from that slutty mother of yours,

or did she only teach you how to ruin everything?

But please, open your eyes,

so you can see,

that today is a horrible day to still be breathing?”

 

And who was I

to argue with my inner demons?

Now that would be pure craziness,

I laughed bitterly

to myself.

 

So I opened my eyes

and I wasn't met

by the sunshine

weaseling its way

between my eyes

like an excited child,

no,

I was met

by a vicious thunder storm

with rain pounding

on our only window

And Mr. Sadness' evil cackle

welcoming back

his best friend

saying it had been

way too long.

 

The storm seemed to reply

with an evil cackle

of his own

or her own

because Mother Nature was

a woman after all.

And its laugh

was in the form

of frightening strikes

of yellow lightning

lighting up

the dark landscape.

The heavy sounds,

pounding raindrops

and startling electricity

from the sky,

they jolted Liam awake

with a weak whimper

and I wanted nothing more

than to hug away his pain

but I was frozen in my place

by Mr. Sadness' firm grasp

that made my limbs immobile.

 

And I noticed now

that Bird Eyes had been sedated

with lovely drugs

that I ached for

that I could only hope to use

because they dulled down emotions

of haywired children like me

but I was never graced

by their use.

 

"Morning."

I squeaked

my voice as small

as I felt

stating the period of day

like it was the only thing

I could do.

 

"Morning Harry."

His words were slow

sedated

and he was still asleep

in some ways

and I wished nothing more

than for him to go to sleep

again.

 

"Its raining."

Again

with the limited words

pointing out the obvious.

I don't think Liam saw

the way I shook my limp curls

like a punishment

to myself

and he didn't punish me either

for stateing something

even the blind could see.

 

"You want to talk about it? Cuddle or something?"

Thats the thing.

Liam got me.

We had been rooming

far long enough now,

friends for long enough

for him to see what made

me go off on my episodes

like the rain

or overcast days

and sometimes the snow

and what fixed them

even for a moment

like a hug

or a cuddle

And he knew.

 

"Sure."

And he knew

I meant yes for the cuddle

because talking about it

what was wrong with me

made it real

and not just in my head

and I couldn't have that

because then I would actually lose it

and we couldnt have that either.

 

So I kept quiet

as I moved from my bed

to his

as he engulfed me

in his arms

that were more muscular now

and he wrapped himself around me

and I realized I was only slightly taller

but he didn't

and I liked that.

 

The moment of bliss

I had at the moment of contact

and I went back

to where I was still sixteen

and small

and I still had a nice layer

of baby fat

covering my bones

and I didn't care about alcohol

I didn't drink back then

and I could still fit

in my mums arms.

 

But then it was the present

and I was now twenty two

and tall

too tall actually

with skin stretched

over too long bones

with not enough meat

to keep me warm

and happy

and I cared too much about alcohol

I depended on it for gods sakes

and now

my mums arms

were miles away

and no longer open

to holding me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

HARRY STYLES PLEASE REPORT TO THE OFFICE

HARRY STYLES TO THE OFFICE THANK YOU

 

I was momentarily stunned

my fork halfway to my mouth

with a smushy strawberry

on the end.

And I looked around the table

still missing Louis

but now we had Mary

who was looking at me

with a squinted stare

like she knew

what I had done

before I did.

And Niall,

who was still shoveling food

into his mouth

but he was obviously confused

by the way his eyebrows

were knitted together.

Liam stayed silent

eating respectfully

on my right

and waited for me to explain.

 

"Why are you called to the office?"

She asked

brown eyes

narrowing even more

as I set down my fork

staring

at the still full plate

with guilt

over something

I didn't know I did.

 

"I dunno."

Keep it simple.

That was always best

when talking to Mary

because she had

a very bad habit

of twisting your words

making a garden lizard

into a city-eating monster.

 

"You obviously know Harry,

now fess up."

Her voice was stern,

angry,

and even Mr. Sadness

was afraid

to look up

from the two pancakes

soaking in syrup.

 

"I really dont-"

But she was having

none of that.

She crushed down my words

throwing them to the ground

and crushing them

with her nike's.

Which added

another bad thing

to my already horrible day

because the pills didn't dull the headache

and my limbs seemed to hang

with no true purpose

because I couldn't truly feel them.

And her words

were acid

creating holes in my skin

but I know she didn't mean it

she never does

but leave it to Harry Styles

to fuck that up too.

 

"Don't give me that shit, Harry,

You know what-"

Now it was her turn

to be interpreted

but not by me

because I knew better

than to mess with her.

 

"Leave him alone Mary."

Liam was there

he was talking

and he was defying

all common sense

as he sorted out his strawberries,

the seed side up

in a straight and orderly line.

He defied common sense

by stopping Mary

and her vicious criticism of me.

And all while sorting his breakfast.

"He's having a bad day, okay?

Lets just let him go to the office,

and then he'll tell us what's up"

 

Mary was wide eyed

astounded

with her jaw hanging loose

like a poster

hanging by one tack

in the corner of the paper.

She was amazing

that Liam

Liam for gods sake

had just told her what to do

and she was having a battle inside her

with gunpowder

and bombs

and poison

but she closed her mouth

eyes growing cold

as she nodded.

 

Her nod told me to go

to leave

that she was done

and even Liam gave me a nod

with more warmth for sure

and I took that as my cue

to leave.

So I scooted out my chair

taking my full plate

and dumping it all away

because I suddenly

wasn't hungry anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm Harry Styles."

I signified

in a hushed stage whisper

to the woman

with long orange fingernails

who clicked on her keyboard

with the stereotypical headset

positioned over her nicely styled hair.

She looks nice

I thought innocently

well everyone would look nice

compared to the freak shows

boarded up here.

 

When I entered the cozy office,

I must have been too quiet

because she didn't look up

from her illuminating screen

so I stood there

awkward

in my sweats and shirt

while she looked so professional

in her matching work suit.

 

But then the annoying

click

click

click

of her fingernails

on the keyboard

became too much

and I had to speak

because she really didn't see me.

But I didn’t blame her

because no one really noticed me

which was okay.

I like it better that way.

 

"Oh, well hello darling

I didn't see you there."

She flipped a switch,

and her look of confusion

directed to the computer

turned to a plastered on

'happy' smile

with crooked teeth

sent in my direction.

"You're supposed to go to Mr. Venter's office,

I trust you know the way."

And I did,

so I nodded

my head rolling on my shoulders

like the dead weight it was

and I moved to the small walkway

back to the offices

those same offices

that smelt of old people

for some ghastly reason

which was such a shame

because if they didn't smell so bad

then maybe

the therapy would work

but just maybe

because why the hell not?

I had to have some optimism

living in this hell hole.

 

So I walked

my slippers scuffing

the light blue carpet

that was just as worn down

as I was

and suddenly

I felt sad for the carpet.

Because think of how many people

scuff

and kick

and stomp

on this poor carpet

with its treads worn thin.

 

He must feel pretty used

so I made sure to walk

with light steps

as if not to wake someone

so that the carpet

felt a little better

knowing someone cared.

Because maybe

he was a metaphoric thing for me

and even I thought it would be nice

to be nice to myself.

Pretty crazy, right?

Pretty crazy that I was finding comfort

in a fucking carpet

instead of anything living.

 

And finally

after I walked so lightly

on the light blue carpet

I found myself outside

of Mr. Venters office

his name on a plaque

in bold gold letters

like it was showing

his importance

to the hundreds

of mentally insane people

he ‘helped’ everyday.

I scoffed at it

like somehow

he would cry

because mental patient

Harry Edward Styles

just stuck his tongue out

at his fancy work plaque.

Or maybe that was just

one of my sick-minded fantasies,

to make the old man cry.

 

Beyond the door

with the fancy-shmancy plaque

I heard voices

two to be exact

of different frequencies

and I found that strange

because maybe I was in trouble

so instead of just opening the door

like I would in any other situation

I knocked

one

two

three

my fist hit the door

and the voices stopped

caught in their crimes

before shuffling happened

and the door opened to me.

 

Mr. Venter, you look swell,

I thought honestly.

And he did.

His pants were clean

crisp

ironed so the line

you know the line

right down the middle of the leg?

Yeah,

that line was crisp,

his shirt tucked in

and it was a lovely salmon shirt

I always loved that color,

and a nice brown belt.

 

“I was called to the office.”

Wow,

today was just that kind of day

where I only stated things

no opinion

just fucking statements

and I even laughed along

with Mr. Sadness

because I was sure

one hell of a basketcase.

 

“That you were, Harry.”

He gives a lifeless smile

that I returned

though it was just stretching my lips

but he accepted it anyway

opening the wooden door wider

and allowing me to slip in

with a silent goodbye

to the worn down carpet.

 

And where I usually sat

on the stiff couch

that always made me squirm

well my seat was occupied

by a very specific

Louis Tomlinson.

 

But he didn’t look

like the Louis Tomlinson

I had known before.

This Louis Tomlinson

had bags

thick and rich

like gucci,

hanging low under his eyes

a color too dark to be

from one all-nighter.

 

And his usually bright ocean eyes

jumping with fear

and newfound excitement

well

they were now storming

dark rampant waves

that crushed bodies

and killed ships

they were  crashing against worn pupils

like a never ending storm

in his mind.

 

Overall he looked tired

too tired to be normal

with his head hanging low

and weary

oh his neck

like in any minute

the stress would be too much

and his head would snap

and that would be that.

Like he was ready to toss in his cards

and I wanted to scream at him not too

because he was just too pretty

to toss them in now.

 

“Louis.”

At least the storms in his eyes

stopped

for however briefly

as they focused on me

with a kind of attention

that was too strong to be surprised.

But as soon as it stopped

it started again

and the waves, well, they waved

white water crashing against his pupils

willing for them to break

and for it all to end.

 

“Take a seat, Harry.”

Mr. Venter was having none

of our reunion time

as he slashed his hand

through the thick air

towards the seat

at the end of the couch

that was nearest the moldy corner.

I was never one to argue

with authority

so I nodded and sat

my legs stiff

as the cushion dipped

under my weight

and I stared at my feet

to avoid the angry sea

in his eyes.

 

“i’m guessing you’ve noticed

Louis’ disappearance.”

Why did he have his notepad?

He had his notepad.

It was sitting like a persian cat in his lap

purring loudly, with pride

and looking at you with slitted eyes

a tint of evil in them.

 

“Yes, I have.”

I answered

without missing a beat

and Louis sucked in

a jagged,

sharp breath

like he wanted to cut through

the space between us

in some sort of way.

 

“Well thats good. So do you know why,"

He added an unneeded pause

"Why Louis here was missing?”

He clicked open his pen

and it was like a gunshot

shot through the room

and Louis jumped

he jumped very high

and it startled everyone

but then Louis settled

and when I looked towards him

his oceans were closed

long lashes gracing the sunken cheeks

in a peaceful war

between the oceans

and the mountains

of his cheekbones.

 

“I...I guess. Louis, hey Louis,"

I hoped my words

were strong enough

to lull him back to me.

It worked.

"Do you want me to know?”

 

The oceans peaked back out again,

storming and vicious,

narrowed and barley there,

as his head gave

a drunken nod

slow and leisurely

like I was asking him

the time of day

instead of if he tried to kill himself.

“Then sure, I guess.”

Mr. Venter gave a curt nod

because he had no time

for ifs, maybes, or guesses

all if which

I favored greatly.

 

“Well, our friend Louis here had

a suicide scare, on Monday. We had him under surveillance up till today when he was cleared."

The words rolled off his tongue

with sickening satisfaction

like he was giving a favored speech

about Sparta vs. Athens

instead of reporting

about the mental health

of a wobbling patient.

But then again, I can give him slack

because he probably says this shit

about suicide

and episodes

and relapses

like he was giving a museum tour.

So I gave him some slack

 

"Really, Louis?"

I had angled my body

so I was pointed towards him

yet his oceans were still hidden

behind glistening lashes

and the foot of space between us

it felt like miles

and it hurt

because he was falling to pieces

his body eroding with every hurling wave

and he was allowing the water

to wash him away.

 

"Yeah."

He croaked it out

like he hadn't had a drink

in years

but I could see by the tears

in the corners of his eyes

that he had water to spare.

 

"And since we fear he may have another attempt,"

Mr. Venter had no time

for schoolgirl emotions

for childish tear

because he had a schedule

filled with schoolgirl emotions

and gallons more of tears

like the ones leaking out

of Louis ocean eyes

and he must have grown immune.

 

"So we asked for him to tell us someone he would feel comfortable staying with,

and the only name he wrote down was yours."

He held up that stupid yellow notepad

and for once

it was something hopeful

scribbled on the lines.

In what must have been

Louis messy writing

the letters forming

a messy group

was my name

Harry Styles

written in an obvious rush

like the name itself

was cursed."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr here! cup-of-lou.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on it guys I swear!

I didn’t know

what I was feeling

as I walked back to my room

at a sluggish pace

with my feet heavy and dragged

with my eyebrows drawn together

because my mind

was a marble painting

with thoughts

tangled up in each other.

 

I was excited

that emotion was obvious

a bright light in the darkness

because now

I was going to be rooming with Louis

Louis with the ocean eyes

that I desperately wanted to drown in

and the shaky body

chafed by the bitter wind.

I wasn’t rooming with him

for the best of reasons

but I would still be seeing him

all the time

and I could get used

to waking up to oceans

instead of chocolate diamonds.

 

But then I was scared

the feeling ached in my bones

a permanent bruise almost

because what if

he attempted again

and again?

I was being placed

to watch over him

and I would feel like a failure

if his oceanic eyes

lost their waves.

 

And after my excitement was drained

my heartbeat slowing

and my fear was stuffed

into a cramp closet

with the snap of the lock

I felt the curiosity

peeking its head

out from behind the door.

 

Why did he only write down me?

It seemed to ask

with the tilt of an innocent head.

I don't know,

I responded with confusion.

He had meet Zayn first

and Zayn had a very

original name

easy to remember.

So why pick me

why pick to remember me

nutcase Harry Styles

and how did he

even remember my name?

I’m not at all

a memorable character

there must be other Harrys here

and he must have had others

that held more importance

than me

because we had only talked once

if you could even call it that.

 

Yet another "why" question

that was surrounding

Louis Tomlinson.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


“Hey Liam.”

I closed the door

with a click

a soft one at that

yet it still made his head snap up

from the book he was reading

with the speed

that let me know

he was waiting for me.

 

He was on his bed

with a new book

cradled between his arms bent arms

as he layed on his stomach.

It was a different book

than from last monday

and he already seemed to be knee thick

in the yellowed pages

with font too small

for my squinting eyes

to read

for hours on end

like he always could.

 

“Oh, Harry, what was with

the whole office thing?”

He set the book down

pages suffocated by his bed

as he stretched his limbs

with cracks and pops.

He moved so he was sitting

with knees in right angles

as his hands rested

on his joints in his legs.

“Give me the details.”

 

“I’m getting moved out.”

I had no time

for leisurely and lengthy,

drawn-on conversations.

Mr. Venter had made it very clear

that I was to be efficient

with my time

packing a bag he had handed me

as he moved me out of his office

to talk to Louis

in private.

But even if I was given

all the time in the world

I wouldn’t want to drag on

the inevitable.

 

“What? Why?”

I was already at my bed

letting the light duffle bag

drift down onto my blanket.

Mr. Venter had also told me

that I was to be ready soon

because they wanted me in there

the new room

by lunch

so I could have time

to get to know Louis

over sandwiches

brought to the room

like it was a possibility

for the small boy

to actually open up.

It was already 11:30

and I could feel my throat tighten

at the thought of being in a room

with the shaken lad.

 

“Louis pulled a suicide scare.”

I opened the drawer to my bureau

taking out the neatly folded clothes

courtesy of Liam

and placing them

at the bottom of the bag.

It made me wonder

if Louis would have

some OCD tendencies too

because I wasn’t the cleanest of people.

“And Mr. Venter wants me to room with him.”

I closed the drawer

that was now empty

of the few things I could call mine

and I moved on to my sheets

that were folded with crisp corners

another courtesy of Liam.

 

“Wait, seriously?”

Liam was at full attention now

trying

wanting

to debunk the thought of Louis

pulling a death scare.

Or maybe he was in disbelief

that I was moving out

after years of rooming with him.

And when the thought

of our years together was fleeting

I started to wonder

how he would room

without me?

 

Mr. Sadness decided to pop up then

my question like a beckoning to him.

His words were sharp and pinpointed

as they told me

that I was a proper dick

the biggest dick of them all actually

for leaving poor Liam here

all alone

in a room that was meant for two

just to go share space

with the guy

who I wanted to fuck.

 

"Bro's before Hoes, dear Harry."

He laughed,

the sound like acid

stinging my skin and making my ears bleed

as he whispered them into my ear.

"I guess Louis is the

hoe in this spot-on analogy."

I wanted to yell at him

to stop with his lies

black oil on my white water

because Liam would understand

he always understood

so this time would be no different

right?

Friends,

even the mental ones

with rooted faults,

knew when you meant something

or not

and he knew

I was doing this for Louis

not for the 'hoe'

but for Louis

and his wellbeing

right?

 

“Yeah. I don't know why though,

Mr. Venter didn't tell me why he tried."

Then I remembered

our conversation from earlier

in the week

with Steve the rightful douche.

"But I guess Steve with have fun

knowing he’s right.”

I emitted a sick-minded laugh

almost exactly like the one

Mr. Sadness sounded

in my head.

I was laughing at the thought

of the dickhead

named Steve

laughing over someones attempted suicide.

Because,

thats the thing

Steve was sick minded

a real prick 100% of the time

and even Zayn hated him

so that had to tell you something

and he had the right ego

the right personality

to laugh at someone's suicide.

 

"Does Mr. Venter know about your crush?"

Leave it to Liam

to push aside his emotions

and the current situations

of friends

to look at the logistics

and things like my crush

A daddy figure, if you will.

 

"No."

I admitted

as I stripped my bed

of its sheets

down to a blue patterned core.

"But he said that Louis needed

to be under observation or something

by another patient

and he let Louis write down names

and mine was the only one there

so I doubt my crush will change that."

I didnt bother folding them

stuffing them

through the bags opening

as I turned to sit

on the bare mattress

to look at Liam

with a guilty expression.

 

"Are you sure you're going to be okay

rooming with him?"

I went to shrug

with lazy shoulders

that didnt emit much emotion

but Liam as having none of that

as he pushed for answers.

"Give me words here, Harry."

 

"I really dont know anymore."

I said with defeat

and Mr. Sadness let out

a sickening laugh

a baited taunt

that was fishing for my words

my false explanations

to laugh at as well

and debunk them

without a batted eye.

"I have to help him,

I would feel guilty if I didn't

because he's our friend, right?

Plus I cant really say no, Mr. Venter

would still move me.

I doubt Louis actually knows me,

he probably only knows my name

so I doubt he will talk to me.

His disease and all."

I added the last part

as if to prove

more to myself than to him

that my crush had no room to grow

into an unearthly obsession.

 

"But Harry he's not just his disease

you of all people can make a breakthrough."

He gave a ghostly smile

like he was thanking me for something

I didnt do.

"And, even if you didn't realise it,

you were really nice to him.

People remember that sort of thing."

 

"People remember that sort of thing."

Mr. Sadness mocked

"Yeah, and people remember

that you drown yourself in beer

to fix your problems."

I wanted to hit my head

hard

again and again

just to knock Mr. Sadness down

even if it was just for a moment

because I needed it

I needed the few seconds

where I had the upper hand

but I knew

I would never get those few seconds

because Mr. Sadness was stronger

he was always stronger than me

everyone was stronger than me

it was a fact.

 

"Please not now Liam,"

I closed my eyes

as Mr. Sadness erupted in laughter

because I was being a coward

and Mr. Sadness said

he was going to add that

to the stings of insults

he had pegged to me.

 

When I opened

my dulling eyes

Liam as looking at me

like a sad puppy

but one that knew I didnt mean

to cause him pain

and somehow

that look

hurt more than anything else

he could have done to me.

  
  


"I have... I have to go,"

My voice cracked

the words stuttering out of me

a car that couldn't start.

"Mr. Venter said he wants me

there early."

I stood abruptly

the bed moaning

from the loss of stress

on its springs

as I turned

quickly zipping up the bag

to sling it over my shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr here! cup-of-lou.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

“You understand that if he tries again

even if its something small

like self abuse, cutting,

that sort of thing,

you have to tell us, right?”

Mr. Venter had asked me

for the fourth time

his voice still uncertain

as he rephrased his question

in a different string of words.

 

If I wasn’t as broken and damaged

beaten and weak

as I was

I would take offence

an arrogant scoff

thrown into his wrinkled face

at how high he thought of me

and my common sense.

But he had every right

to be sceptical

so I let his worried words

hang in the air

with taunting faces

and made no attempt

to deny them.

Because by now

I had lost

a majority

of my common sense

hell

I spent years of my life

taking comfort with booze

and not people who cared

so I wasn’t completely right

in the sense category.

 

I stayed quiet for a moment

letting the only sounds we shared

be our feet hitting the tiled floor.

Mr. Venter had taken upon himself

to walk me to my new room,

his polished shoes

scuffing the ground

with every annoying step.

And

to my large dismay

my new room  

happened to live

happened to breathe

on the opposite side

of the building

a part of the building

that I was very unfamiliar with.

It smelt different

somehow, in someway

it smelt different.

The floors had a different shine

lit up by a different kind of light

from a different point of the sun.

Even the walls seemed a different shade

of the same boring

bland

white

and it made me all the more nervous.

I am like everyone else

when I say

I don’t like change.

And being here

in this organized loony-bin

you grew used to the cycle

your strategically planned schedule had

so even the smallest thing

could upset your life,

your groove of things.

 

“Yeah, tell you or a nurse

if anything happens to him.”

I had begun to lie so often

even I couldn’t differentiate

when I was lying

or telling the truth

but right now

I was certainly telling the truth.

He seemed to know as well

nodding his balding head

as if my truthfulness

was the beat

to his favorite song.

 

“We’ll schedule some meetings

maybe in a week or so,

to see how you’re adjusting.”

And also on our walk

I noticed

that outside of the office

he really was one to talk

a nervous talker

as I would call it

because he just didn’t find

the same comfort

in silence

like I did

so instead of meaningful conversation

he took pleasure

in dumb dribblings of his words.

 

“Okay.”

 

“And if at any point before then

you have to talk to me

or you need to switch

my door is always open.”

No,

no it isnt Mr. Venter

it’s always closed

metaphorically

and physically.

But if I could lie

it only made sense

that he could too.

 

“Okay.”

I eyed him

from the corner of my eye

as the stuffed duffle bag

slowly swung

against my thigh

because he was fidgeting

very obviously too I might add.

Even out of the corner of my eye

I saw the way

he played with his fingers

and I almost wanted to laugh

no

I did want to laugh

I certainly wanted to laugh

because here he was

nervous

freaked

twitchy

for some unknown reason

and he was the one

who was supposed to be

helping us all

escape the same things

he was doing right now.

How ironic.

 

Even as his fingers

twirled around each other

in a clammy-handed dance

he kept quiet

because he knew it was the end

of his unmeaningful words

clustered into stretched sentences

to make patchy conversation

and I was thankful .

No more unnecessary words

to fill the void

as we both walked

my feet quiet

and unnoticed

while his steps

making thunder sounds

as they slapped the tiled floor

with their ever-growing presence.

 

Two types of people,

my mum would say.

You have two types of people

out in the big bold world, Harry,

her voice would coo to me

with motherly sweetness.

 

And what are those two types?

I would ask

with the giggly ignorance

of an innocent child

because no matter how many times

she would tell me this

this story

I always had to ask what they were.

 

Well it depends on who you ask

my sparrow,

as a child

I would giggle even more

at her nickname for me

and as a teen

I would emit a sickened groan

but she would always continue on.

 

Some people may think

that the two people

are people who like crusts on their sandwiches

and people who don't

or people who like milk in their tea

and people who don't

sometimes even people who

drive on the right side of the road

and people who drive on the left.

 

At this point in the story

she would always pause

her eyes glancing down at me

where I laid in her arms

and I would always ask

‘But’

because that was my role

to ask why

and ask for the but.

 

But,

when you get down to the core

you always have two kinds of people.

The good people

with whole hearts of gold

filled, stuffed even, full of love

so filled that they would be bursting

bursting over the seams with love

for something or someone.

And then the bad people.

 

And what makes the bad people

my young and foolish self would ask

with the tilt of a curious head.

 

Well, sparrow,

the bad people can be a lot of things.

They can be broken

like a glass

that you dropped on the floor

or they could mean

like the kid who kicked dirt in your face

they can even be sad

so sad

that tears just don’t cut it.

Could you imagine that sparrow,

being so broke

that even crying doesn't help?

 

And I would shake my head

because then

back in the good ol’ days

I couldn't even imagine it

but now

I could laugh cruelly

at that recurring scene

because I was there now

I was a bad person

because tears lost their effect

what feels like milleniums ago.

 

But even then sparrow

when you are sad

or broken

or so every mean

you still have a chance

you still have the option

to be a good person

or a bad one.

And that is when you must choose

to like your crusts,

or to hate them,

to drive on the left,

or on the right,

or to drink your tea

with milk or without,

or to be a bad person

who can still be

a little bit good.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


“Here we are.”

His words broke into my head

knocking down the barrier

the silence had built up for me.

And with his words

accompanied by his hands,

he guided me into the room

that I was supposed to all mine.

The door was open

which was peculiar

and I found it even stranger

that I hadn't noticed its open door.

You would think

in a place of closed off rooms

and failed secrets

that you would notice

things like an open door

but you really didn’t

as I had just figured out.

Bigger fish to fry

and all that.

 

Mr. Venter

being the gentleman he was

but really wasn’t

entered the room first

his inflated ego taking importance

over my flat and dissipating one.

He lead me in

his words falling silent

as they reached my ears

because now

I was soaking in

all the new sights

the new details

of my new home.

 

I first noticed

that instead of

the usual one window

given to all the rooms

I was used to,

there was three.

Three windows positioned

on each of the walls

the plexi-glass panels

letting the blinding light

flow through the windows.

They stretched to be

a couple of feet long

with the wires

of the security system

stretched over the strong plastic.

 

Even though I was surrounded

by the intense light

a strange thing for England

at this chilling point in the year

my mind immediately shifted to Liam

and his love of the sun

with its blistering heat

and his love of the stars

too many to count

as they would twinkle through

our single window at night.

 

I remember talking to him

about his love of the stars

on one of the nights

you could actually see them.

I asked him why

why an OCD person like him

would love the stars

and their changing infinite numbers

and he simply told me

that he loved their scrambled organization.

He loved that they were uncontrollable

and that you could see them

even after they died

and he found that pretty cool

so every night

when you could see them

twinkling through our window

he would be standing there

arms pressed on the threshold

of the window

simply staring out.

 

“Harry?”

Mr. Venter had stopped his rambling

his incisive habit

to look at me with false worry.

I knew it was false

because he didn’t care

no one ever cared

he just didn't need

a lawsuit on his hands.

 

“Sorry, I just spaced.”

I didn't bother

wasting a smile

as he continued to talk

and I continued to block him out.

 

As his words

drowned into white noise

just a buzz behind my ears

I looked around the room

I really looked

to see the setting

I was to call mine

for the foreseeable future.

 

The walls were the same white

the same disturbing blankness

that I had become used to

in my old home

which was a relief of sorts.

I still had a bureau

a flimsy plastic one

and a desk with a lamp

so that was relieving as well

only these lamps

were in the wall

covered with a shaded plastic

kind of like childish nightlights.

That was when I pieced together

that this room

was probably

a suicide safe room.

But I didn't care

because I knew why I was here

and they obviously wouldn't put me

or Louis for that matter

in a room

where harm could happen

because they really cared about us

and our well being.

 

At the thought of his name

a name I had been trying to block away

for fear of my own growing insanity

I finally realized that I was here

with him

right now.

And I took it a step further

my thoughts racing to catch up

as I aimed my eyes directly at him

as he sat

on his premade bed.

 

At first, I just looked

a simple glance over

as I refocused myself

into the situation I was in

and allowed myself to hear

that Mr. Venter was going over

something about Louis’ condition

so I didn’t listen to him

I continued to not listen

and I allowed myself the pleasure

of focusing on Louis.

 

I allowed myself

to actually look

and that was when I saw

and I began to soak in his details

like I hadn't seen him before.

And with this version

of himself

I really hadn't.

 

He still looked the same

from our meeting before

except now

he was bathing in light

and I saw how thin

how stretched

his skin was

and how he held himself

in a dainty like manner

with his arms

wrapped around his stomach

like he knew he could break

any second now.

And he wore a smirk

a devilish smirk at that

that could only mean trouble

as I furrowed my brows

at the broken boy.

How could someone

look so broken and dead

yet so troublesome

so dangerous?

 

I started to think

what kind of person he was

was he good

or bad

or one of the people in between.

 

“So, now that I went over that

I’ll let you two be.”

I blinked as Mr. Venter

turned to look at me

with his dulled eyes

dulled because of all

the procedures

and speeches

and talks

he has to give

to so many people

just like me.

So I took pity

and I gave him a nod

to let him know

yes, Mr. Venter

I heard you

and you can leave now.

 

“Just call if you need anything.”

He let his words hang

those six meaningless words

necks in nooses if you will.

Even though his neck

was strangled around rope

he decided that it would be wise

a nice race of  his blood

to take a leap

a step

too big for him to take

and he took this leap

in the form of a hand

old and wrinkled

placed every so lightly

on my shoulder.

I wasn’t to be blamed

when my body recoiled

the shot of a gun

in the form of a comforting hand

and I wasn’t to blame

when my eyes grew

unhumanly wide

to jerk away from the hand

that was supposed to be comforting.

I wasn’t to be blamed at all

because dear

Mr. Venter

that was unprofessional

and way out of line.

 

Mr. Venter didn't need

any clearer signs

and he realised that his leap

his step

was too big

for his elderly legs to take

so he withdrew his hand

that was hanging

in a noose in the air

just barely saving himself

from falling through the crack.

 

He even mustered up a smile

thin lined and false

oh so very

very

false

as he took elongated steps

towards the door

and closed it

without uttering

a single apology.

Dick.

Even I could agree

with Mr. Sadness

on that.

But he was Mr. Venter

false-helper to the sick

and he was so false

so very

very

false

so false in fact

that he wasn’t even a helper

but a patient himself

except he wasn’t even emitted

and had a stupid gold plaque

to separate him

from us all.

 

I shook my head

trying to keep my mind clear

because now I had a job to do

a live or die job at that

but a job nonetheless.

I was here to help Louis

sweet Louis

who could be broken

a china doll with no glue

yet he could still work

that devilish smirk

ever so nicely.

I was here for him

and I had to help him

because if not me

then who?

He only wrote me down

so I guess I was the last option

the final resort.

 

I shook my head again

and again

trying to make my thoughts

of responsibility

fly out

through the ends of my curls

because this was more responsibility

than I had had in years

too much actually

and I was still trying

trying so hard

to grasp it.

 

I noticed then

when I was trying

trying so hard

to make my responsibilities

fly away

that I was being watched

by china doll Louis

with furrowed brows

and I knew that I was just standing

awkwardly

so I moved

with determination

to fling my bag on the bed

with a muffled thud

to start sorting out

all my belongings.

I unzipped the bag

with too much force

to be necessary

and extracted my sheets

with long pulls.

 

I hated making my bed

this was something Liam did

because he knew how

and he knew how I liked it done

down to a T

and he made it perfect

every single time.

Well now

I was doing it myself

with china doll Louis

sitting on his bed

with watchful eyes

that burned into my back

and I pretended not to notice

when he stood

and watched me.

 

Why he was watching me

I had no clue

I was only making my bed

well trying

because I failed at this sort of thing.

I tucked the ecstatic bands

around the corners

of the plastic mattress

with only minor grunts

and when I had reached

all of the corners

it still didn’t look good

it looked pathetic

done by a child

and I couldn’t help

but grit my teeth

as Mr. Sadness

laughed at my

horrible attempt

at making my bed.

 

“Do you want some help?”

Wow

I had heard him talk before

but every time

it was a pleasant surprise

because he spoke

with such charm

and hidden sass

that I couldn’t help

but be momentarily stunned.

 

“Hmm?”

I had to

I had to ask again

because it could be days

weeks even

before I heard

the chimes of his voice again.

 

“I asked if you wanted some help

with your bedding.”

He still had his arms

curled so nicely

around his stomach

like he was trying

to hold himself together

like he was his own glue

and that made me sad

but I pretended not to notice

and nodded lamely.

 

“If you want to.”

He loosened his grip

on his hips

the fingers uncurling

from where they lie

on his hipbones

but they didn’t

completely unravel

because he was testing the waters

the waters of an ‘us’

even if the ‘us’ was roommates

because even he

had some kind

of boundaries.

 

“Well what kind of roommate

am I to let you squirm around

over here?”

He let out a laugh

a chipper, windchime

kind of laugh

that seemed at least a little genuine

and I couldn’t restrain

the smile that moved

onto my lips

with bullet fast speed

as I moved out of the way

so he could help me.

 

“Thanks.”

I turned to look at him

to give a smile

a simple thanks

that I didn’t have to speak

but I couldn’t

I couldn’t move my lips

because I was a foot

away from the face

that I admired so strongly

from afar

and it looked so much better

impossibly better

up close.

It’s like a painting almost

with the beauty from afar

but when you are up close

you see the tiny brush strokes

and the different shades

and the lines that were fuzzy

and you question why

why you thought

that being far away

the painting was so beautiful

because up close

it looks impossibly gorgeous.

 

His eyes

the ones made of oceanic beauty

were swirls of different blues

and greens

even hints of gold

and I wanted badly

so badly

to just start at him and his eyes

till I turned to dust.

Because his whole face

seemed to glow

maybe it was the sun

but it looked like his cheekbones

were strong enough to cut steel

and his lips

held such vibrant rosy tints

that even when they curled up

into a forced smile

you could feel the

warmth of his smile

surging through you with waves

of affection.

His face

his being in general

was strong enough

to give the most dark-souled person

even a little bit of light

and I could feel myself

warming up to him

with feelings

I thought I stowed away

years ago.

 

The thing is

I have always known I was gay

I had known since I was thirteen

the first disappointment

on my rollercoaster

of mistakes.

My mum tried to hide

the disappointment

in her eyes

the day I told her

but I knew that she wanted me

needed me to be straight

and I wasn’t

but she accepted it anyway

because it wasn’t that big

of an issue

as long as I was safe.

 

So I liked guys

and it became normal

a majority of people accepted it

the people who didn't

I didn’t associate with anyway

so I was happy.

But it wasn’t until a couple of years ago

when I took my comfort in alcohol

that I stopped liking guys

liking people in general actually

because I found no reason for crushes

when I was battling an eternal war

with me, myself, and I.

So this warmness

the fuzzy feeling

that emanated in my gut

I knew it was trouble

because when you grow use

to not using something

you forget how to use it in all

and when you forget

you make mistakes

and I couldn’t afford

to make mistakes

with china doll Louis.

 

So I had to learn

how to love

all over again.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr here! cup-of-lou.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

“You probably

have a bunch of questions.”

His voice ceased

the declaration of silence

that had grown between us,

his voice

speaking his words

with quiet hesitancy.

 

It had been an hour

well almost an hour

by the way the digits

on the clock

blinked pass.

It had almost been an hour

since he had helped me

make my bed

and we had eaten lunch soon after

before falling into the silence

we were currently situated in.

 

I was in my usual mode

with my eyes closed

with lids hung with lead

while I had my battles

with Mr. Sadness

in my mind

and my body.

Sometimes they were good battles

with me learning something

about myself

and why I do things the way I do

and other times they were bad

where I found that I was useless

and that I was just a waste

here on this stupid planet.

But right now

I was having a nice

peaceful battle

with Mr. Sadness

on the topic of war

and the whole reason

we always seem to resort

to violence

when Louis,

his voice too wary,

creeped its way

into my mind.

 

“Questions about what?”

I opened my eyes slowly

so they could get used

to the mid-afternoon light

while my words

were drawn

by a fancy fountain pen.

“Why would I have questions?”

Two questions

asking why

I would have questions

in any other situation

I would be laughing

laughing like the mad man I was

because how much more ironic

can things get?

Instead of laughing

like I felt like I wanted to do

I turned my body

with creaks of disapprovement

from laying down to sitting up

to look at the boy

with yet another question

doodled on my face.

 

“About why you’re here.”

His eyes focused on mine

piercing me

before he placed his gaze

onto the floor

and fiddled

with his hands

like I felt like he always did.

I was doing

a lot of feeling today

and I didn’t quite know

how to feel about.

“Why I only wrote down your name.”

 

“Only if you, you know, want to talk.”

One thing you learn

about being in this hell hole,

you never use force,

and you never question

because sometimes

you get things

you didn’t bargain for

and violence sometimes

Mr. Sadness chimed in

with his wicked voice.

Louis seemed to be asking himself

the same question,

if he really wanted to talk

to tell me,

silly irrelevant Harry Styles

what was on his mind

because sometimes

having secrets to yourself

as small as they may be

keep you the most sane.

Honesty is the worst policy

because then you have nothing

up your sleeve.

 

“Well, I want to answer your questions

so that we can at least try

to have a healthy relationship.

I think that would be nice.”

A relationship,

is that what he wanted from me?

He probably means

a friendship

because that’s really

all I’m expecting from this

because I don't want

to be implying

or make things awkward

because Louis

can probably

be a good friend.

An attractive

cockhardening

heart fluttering

friend

if nothing else.

Plus

its not like I can be

anything better

than a friend

because truth be told

I was a shitty person

inside and out.

 

“So what, you want me

to, like, ask you questions?”

My face wrinkled

even more

in confusion.

No one wants

to be asked questions

to be interrogated

and Louis especially

because that puts you

in the spotlight

and with his disorder

the spotlight can

burn his skin

from his bones

to leave him raw and bare

and I certainly didn't need

to expose him like that.

 

“Sure, I guess, I mean,

if thats okay.”

He shrugged

shoulders seeming

impressively light

as they went

up and down

quickly

like an angry tide

against a peaceful shore.

His eyes moved from the floor

to the window

looking out into the grey abyss

that was England winters

with a sort of longing

that I had once held

in my eyes as well.

 

“Okay.”

I lulled the idea

in my head

swirling it around

like the idea and I were dancing

slowly

but quickly all the same.

This gave a simple pause

a break

before I started

with my questioning.

“Why aren’t you shaking?

You have social anxiety,

right? Aren’t you always shaking

around people?”

 

He wasn’t expecting

that question first

from the way

his eyes shot to mine

swarming with confusion

as they adjusted to my face

staring me down

with squinting lids.

His look was intense

too intense

and I found

that I was redirecting

my eyes

to the tiled floor

with my cheeks reddening.

 

“I...I don’t…”

His stammering

was punishment enough

for my stupidity

and I grimaced

at the sound

of his repetition of sounds.

 

“You don't have to

answer that. I can ask

other questions if you want.”

I wanted to slap myself

over

and over

and over

because i had just asked

why he was fucked up

like asking me

why I loved alcohol so much.

I don't bloody know why

so he obviously wouldn’t either.

 

Mr. Sadness was buckled over

hands braced on his knees

in harsh

mocking

laughter.

The sound was too much

the crackling she emitted

making me wince

with every breath he sucked in.

But I deserved it.

 

“No,”

He started

words firm now

as they protested

with a slight laugh

following suit his words

and I made the move

to look him in the eye

as he spoke

because it was the least

I could do,

“I just didn't think...I mean it’s”

He closed his eyes

tightly

as he regained himself

to form his words together

“I was bracing myself

for a different route, is all.”

He gave a thin smirk

with his eyes falling to the ground

like he was having

some sort of inner flashback

like in all those movies

with the main character

giving you tidbits of their life

through memories

and I almost giggled

because Louis

could make a good actor.

 

“I wasn’t always like,”

He paused

mind racking for a word

before he settled

with a vague hand

raking over his body

“Like this.

I used to be a hoot

real life of the party, actually.”

His thin smile falters

to a frown

and he makes no move

to change it.

 

“I did a lot of theater, singing,

I was the stereotypical gay guy…”

His frown deepens even more

before his chest

is heaving unexpectedly

and his hands are jumping

bouncing

all over the place

as they run down his thighs

and prance over each of his digits

in a madman's rush.

“I-I should, fuck, I fucked this up,

I s-s-should have told you I’m-fuck- I’m gay.”

His words sound pained

too pained

for such a normal conversation

because he was wincing

as he balled his fists

till joints turned white

as they fisted his baggy sweats

and bit his lower lip

so hard

he might had broken skin

and tasted his own

racing blood.

 

“No, Louis, it’s fine.”

My own words were rushed

in a race to help him

as my mind

was turning to hectics

my mind was in utter chaos

because what do you do

when someones having

a panic attack?

Yes,

I had lived through many with Liam

but Louis was different

and how do you deal

with someone new

with a whole new

plethora of problems

“I...what do I do?

What do you want me to do?”

I was at a lose

and I myself was gaining

the nervousness

that was rapidly filling the air.

 

His head twisted up

to show me eyes

just as jittery as his hands

waves flying across pupils

in mad dashes for authority.

His cheeks were flushed

with the blood

that must be boiling beneath.

 

“J-ju-just let me ride th-this out.”

His words

sound close to tears

like the letters themselves

are dripping

with the water

and the blood

that seem to fill him

with unneeded volume.

 

And I let him ride it out.

His waves crashed

and broke

and eroded

they destroyed so much

in such short seconds

that they must have set a record

but right as they must

have no more room

to grow in intensity

they died down

and his hands grew colorful

as they loosened on his sweats

and his lip

was finally released

from the headlock

his teeth were pronouncing on it.

 

“I’m sorry.”

He speaks

his voice as small

as he was starting

to make himself,

the words laced

with small droplets

of fearful water

trickling out

because his waves of emotion

harsh, painful emotion

have died now

and he was let

a battered shell

that was only awaiting

the next beating.

“Leave it to me

to have a fucking attack

during a conversation.”

His words are heaved

thrown out

like he would relapse

into his storms

in any second

as his hands

feverishly moved

to wipe his face

like the water on his face

could be erased

by the water that was

coating his sweaty hands.

 

“No, Louis, it’s fine.”

I was rushing

rushing to meet him

with a comforting tone.

“Liam had attacks like that all the time,

I’m something I’ve, I don't know,

grown used to I guess.

I just didn’t want to, like,

overstep boundaries with you.”

The blush in my cheeks

must have been vibrant

because even Louis

let out a single laugh

at the look of my face.

 

“Would you like me- should I

continue with my story?”

He asks

like a child for a cookie

when in all reality

his cookie was a monster

ready to bite his hand off

when he reached into the jar.

 

“If you want. I don't want to push.”

I didn't.

I really didn't.

Because his storms

were typhoons

compared to my bathtub ripples

and I wouldn’t be able

to handle myself

if I was there

when he overflowed.

 

“I guess I will.”

He let out

a forceful sigh.

“Save us all the problems.”

He nodded to himself

and redirected his gaze

to the window

where a crow

its feathers black against white

to create an evil contrast

was sitting

in a bare tree

with bark that was glistening silver

like a mocking signal

to tell us even the wicked

were free.

 

“Right, well, I was a flamer.”

His words were blunt

just as blunt as the knife

that was stabbing into him

as he regained his steady being.

“Smart, eccentric, bold,

the whole works,

and when I came out

I was happy too, too happy really,

because a good portion of the community

hated that I was one of the only gay kids

in the school system.

I was trying to put that all behind me

because I was about to turn sixteen

and that was something

I was happy for as well.

 

“But the day before winter hols,

my birthday is christmas eve by the way,

a couple of boys from the footie team

followed me home,

cause I walked, you know?

Well, they didn't approve of me

being, well, gay,

and so did a lot of the school

according to them

and so they beat me up.

Told me if I told anyone

they would hurt me even more

and possibly my sisters,

of which I have four younger.

 

“Well,”

His laugh came out strained

like he was trying

trying to make this

a tad bit less serious.

“Long story short.

beating me up turned to rape

and I lost my boldness

because with every punch

they would tell me why they hated me

and soon they had the whole school

in on the ‘Hate Louis’ parade

so whenever I would do anything

I’d get constant slurs thrown at me

and my friends ditched

and the teachers stopped noticing

hell,

even the nurse stopped treating

to my frequent cuts,

the boys had a real thing for box cutters.

And then I became,”

he threw his hands

in another vague body movement

“I became this.

And my anxiety only really…acts up,

I guess, when I’m around new people

or a big group I get all nervous and clammy

and then my mind goes blank but

overdrives at the same time.

And even now,

I’m having trouble thinking straight

because you’re just there.”

The laugh now

is harsh

the laugh of someone

who’s stared straight into

the face of real life

seen its true colors

and kept their eyes open.

“But its better than being in a big group

like on monday

because there isn’t really room

for a big change in conversation.

Thats when my nerves start acting up.”

 

He was letting out his steam

the story he hasn’t been able to tell

because there was simply

no one there to listen

and I was more than happy

I felt obliged to some extend

to let him vent

because for some people

its something helpful.

I was never one of those people,

feeling much more whole

when I kept my feelings inside

because that was always

the best option

but it all comes down

to two kinds of people.

 

“Oh.”

How do you respond

to that?

A thank you

for opening up to me?

A replay of your reason

for being in this place?

“I’m sorry about that.

At least you’re getting help for it.”

I guess my answer

was adequate,

it was better

than saying nothing.

 

“I wish I could say that was right.”

He scoffed.

“But I think that I’ll get better

having you lads and all.”

His smile

was faint

but it was there

small but genuine

and I found Mr. Sadness

easing up his hold

on the muscles for my own smile.

“And it was nice,

being able to eat with company

that I wasn’t related to.

A nice first day, I guess,

and I forgot to thank you guys for it.”

He concluded his words

with a little more length

to his smile

and I found myself

recollecting

on my own first day

and all that surrounded it

because I could remember it

like the back of my hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I was nineteen

when my mum

finally forced me

into this hospital.

She had been trying

to prepare me

mentally more than anything

for moving out of my flat

that she had bought me

for the university

I dropped out of

in the first year.

But when the day came

for me to finally be evicted

by her forceful hand

out of the only home

I could call mine

I was too angry for words

too frazzled to do much action

so I settled with silence

as my head spun

in hazy circles

and rough squares

because the speed of the car

was just too much

for me to handle

was I was.

She made me go cold turkey

by shoving all the beer

and wine

and vodka

even the tequila

stored behind the shampoos

in the bathroom

into a big black trash bag

to throw into her car.

 

She made me start dry

at eight in the morning

when she deemed the day ready

to be ruined.

She didn’t bother with my things

everything being too trashed

or too dirty to be brought

so she just shoved me

and my pylant haziness

into the car

for a three hour car ride.

 

In all three hours

I felt sick

from anger

and fear

and the sheer bluntness

of no beer

in my hand.

And Mr. Sadness

that day

he was the loudest

he had ever been

and I remember

the tears

that escaped my eyes

during that car ride.

Mum probably thought

it was because I was realizing

how horrible my actions were

because she tried to comfort me

in the form of a hand

placed on my knee.

But no.

I was crying because I was crazy

and sick

and I couldn’t think straight

without Mr. Sadness screaming

profanities

and insults

into my ears.

 

And once I got over

the nauseating feeling

of Mr. Sadness

breathing over my shoulder

I felt empty

from the lack of booze

and love

from the mother

who sat in the seat

to my left.

 

So in those three hours

I tried my best

to let the music,

some soft indie band

that was playing

on the station my mum picked,

be my booze.

I let that simple-beat song

pull me out into the numbness

so I could drift away

far

far away

so far

that I couldn’t see

the ground

or the stupid car

with the booze

crying for my attention

in the trunk.

Of course that was illogical

I could never escape my reality

but everything is possible

with the right kind of drug.

 

The first day

when my feet first touched

the tiled floor

was a day of instruction

and meetings

and so many kind words

that even then

I sensed the falseness of.

They assigned me to Liam

who then was only twenty

and had been a resident

for a little over four years

and was still lacking

a roommate.

We were around the same age

so they thought best

to push us together

screaming “FRIENDS”

in our ears

would work

in helping both of us out.

That was one of the only things

the hospital did right

because here we are

three years later

with a strong friendship

that was now being pulled apart.

 

And on that first day

was the first day

I felt empty

and had

my first thought of death

self inflicted death

because Mr. Sadness

was just too loud

and I had nothing

to kill him with

or lock him away with

so I was left

to sit on the floor

clutching my head

trying

trying so hard

to get him to stop.

I should have told myself

that arguing

with yourself

and your inner demons

does nothing but further

the thought of insanity.

 

And on that first day

was also the first day

I had someone

to hold me

while I cried tears

that were soon to dry up

and tell me it would be okay

which was a big

fat

lie

that I allowed myself

the serenity

to believe.

Liam was the first person

to help me out

as he tucked

my new found curls

behind my ears

and held me close

so I soaked his shirt

with my wannabe tears

that he knew far too well.

And once I was finished

with my pathetic tears

that left a patch of wetness

on his shirt

he told me he had OCD

and I told him I had depression

like it was the most normal thing

like curt sidewalk conversation.

 

He told me after I had dried my eyes

and wiped my nose

that it was going to be okay

and to make the best of it all

so I agreed

when he asked me

if I wanted to meet his friends.

He didn’t have to persuade me much

because it all truthfulness

my so-called friends

had left me

months prior to this

only to leave me

to spiral even further down

the road I was without breaks on

so I was even a tad bit excited

with my head full of clouds

to meet people

who could actually care about me

like Liam did.

 

Niall was the first I met

for he was the only one open

when I arrived

around lunchtime.

He gave me a pleasant smile

with dazzling blue eyes

and allowed Liam to inform me

he was selectively mute

and even prodded Liam on

to tell me a little about him.

It was when I was learning about Niall

that I met Zayn

and just Zayn this time

who met me

with narrowing brown eyes

that were too cold

but eventually warmed

even if just a little bit

when Liam introduced me.

 

That day

I felt nothing other than

the thirst for alcohol

in my stomach

so I didn’t eat

and no one pushed that

so I sat quietly

at the table

while Zayn and Liam

held a conversation

over some book

they had exchanged

and Niall stared intently

at the food on his tray.

Niall even tried to talk to me

using his eyes

and hands

to ask me if I was okay

to which I gave a stiff smile

and shook my head no.

There was no use lying now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr here! cup-of-lou.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

To both of our likings

we had strayed from the topic

of our problems

taking our conversation

down the road

of our families.

He told me of his house

a little brick house

in Doncaster

and how he never liked

how cloudy England was

and how he dreamt

of going somewhere else.

 

His voice would tell me

in its crackling

Doncaster tongue

how he ached to move

to London

or even the States

to try to be a big shot

but that all fell through

when his personality

turned ‘sour’

as he said

with a relaxed smirk.

 

I wanted to tell him

that London

the city he talked about

with dreaming eyes

wasn’t the big lights

or the red buses

but more the back streets

with broken lights

and constantly surrounded

by the cement

and the greys

that were standard

in all big cities.

 

Instead

I opted to keep my mouth shut

and let him tell me

about his dreams

of going to X-factor

and singing

and making it through

to be a big popstar

so he could provide

for his large family.

 

“Four sisters?

Really?”

I was dumbfounded

by the number

so small

yet in this context

too big to be wrapped around.

I could barely handle

growing up with Gemma

who constantly

hogged the bathroom

let alone four of her

running around my feet.

 

“Yeah, four.

Lottie, Fizzy,

Phoebe and Daisy.

Best little buggers I could ask for.”

The corners of his mouth

rooted up in a smile

small but loving

and it felt somehow

directed towards me.

But that was absurd

he wouldn’t be smiling at me.

 

“I couldn't handle four.”

I stated

with a smug

unneeded expression

as I pulled my knees

up to my chest

as my back

laid flat against the wall.

His eyebrow cocked at me

challenging me to reason

with his experience.

“I had issues enough with Gemma,

my older sister,

and having more of her

would just make me pissed.”

 

“Don’t be so sure of yourself.”

He laughed

with his laugh

forming into light jingles

that danced through the air.

I knew I loved his voice

it was something different

in my world of constants

but I also found that I loved his laugh

because it sounded like

warm cookies on a snowy day,

hot tea when you found your toes

have gone cold,

and I itched

to figure out

what his singing voice

felt like in my heart.

 

“No, I’m serious,”

I myself sported a small smile

that to him

meant more than just

the pulling of the corners of my mouth.

“Gemma was always mean to me

a big prankster usually.

And her pranks weren’t even funny

more just like making me piss myself

in the middle of the night.

Plus she always hogged the bathroom

in the mornings.”

 

“You don't know bathroom hogging

until you’ve had to live with two

teenage girls

who think they need makeup.

A right pain in the arse, they are.”

He shook his head

like the memory

was playing

in front of his eyes.

“But my house

seems to be a bit bigger

than yours was,

plus we had more than one bathroom.”

 

“Yeah, a family of six

needs more room than just us

lonely three. But halfway through

high school Gemz when to college

so we had more breathing room,

and then I moved out

so the one bathroom

was only a problem for a little bit.”

His eyes

bore into my skin

as he listened to my words

nodding along

as I finished my words

with a nod of my own.

 

He found it cute

that I lived in Holmes Chapel

he said he had heard of it

and thought it was quainte,

quiet,

well more quiet than Donny

as he likes to call it.

I thought it was too

but sometimes I miss it,

the small town

with the sense of community,

the roads small

and the nights unpopulated

by lights

that I traded,

for good or for worse,

for the big city of London

with its raging streets

and the many different faces

circulating out

with the hours.

 

“So I take it you went to college?”

He moved to create

a mirror image of myself

as he rested his arms

on his knees

and his head on his arms

to look at me

with a tilted head.

 

“I don’t know if you could call it that.”

I was going for simple

no use in stumbling over words

that were just taking up the space

that my sentences seemed to have.

Space filling words, you could say.

 

“Well then what would you call it?”

I found

with his jingling laugh

and his love for London,

that he was quite curious

even a little bit hyper

and loved to talk about things

which then lead to his many questions

all innocent and said

in the spur of the moment

like a child

who never got enough

of the question why.

 

“I went to college,

all set up to gain a medical degree,

but then I got depressed

and basically dropped out of life.

I ended up taking just a few months

worth of courses before I started drinking

and thats when everything started

spiraling out of my control.”

I shrugged

the words sounding foreign

as they moved off my tongue.

Those first few months

of college

were shit

and I hated every morning class

that started before the sun

and every class that extended till twelve

when there were just as many lights

as there were students.

I hated those classes

with such a passion

that if I hadn't found booze

it would be some under the counter drug

that I would buy

from the bloke at the corner

of Hammond Hardware

and the old park

that I noticed

when I walked home.

 

“Why did you choose alcohol?”

His voice was small

a peep from the other side of the room

as a crow balked outside our window.

The sound was incessive

and my teeth responding

by grinding together

against the mocking voice.

  
  


“Hmm?”

I had to focus on him

and not the sound

of that bastard bird

sitting oh-so-freely

outside my window.

Our window now,

I guess.

I focused my eyes

on his face

blinking like it would help

soften his sharp edges.

 

“I was just wondering

why you chose alcohol,

because all the colleges I knew

you could find weed

on like every other corner.”

He finished his sentence

with pulling his lower lip

between his teeth

biting hard enough to show white.

Why, dear Louis,

did you bite your lips

the color of roses

between your dazzling smile?

 

“Hmm.”

I repeated

with curiosity dancing

with the hum in my mouth.

“Never really thought of weed

as an alternative…”

My brows scooted closer

to each other,

“Hell, I never really thought of it

in the first place.”

That was funny.

Hysterical even,

and I found my body

shaking with the laughs

of the idea.

His eyes told me his question

as they grew with fear

at my sudden change

of emotion.

 

“It’s funny s’all.”

I explained

with widened hand gestures

that used to be my specialty.

“Here I was,

a college student

with weed at my fucking fingertips

and I chose for bloody alcohol.”

Short reasonings seemed fit

as my body shook harder with the laughter

 

The laughter was foreign

something that hadn't moved me

for what must be years.

Laughter was strange here

in this building

just as weird as it was

to fill my being.

I was unaccustomed

to its racking bursts

and its lust for air

as it rocked my body

and made my curls bounce

with life that had not filled any of me

for years.

The feeling brought tears to my eyes,

tensing my body just as much

as it relaxed me.

The waves held no signs

of halting

as i clutched at my stomach

to stop the ache

that felt better than any pain

I had become accustomed to.

My eyes crinkled at the corners

as my mouth opened for the

exotic sound to sing

and I felt an emotion

that was long-lost,

yet newly found again.

 

It took minutes

for the sound to seise

as it pulled at my muscles

and gave a fullness

that I had long since forgotten

yet now wondered how I could

have ever lost

the feeling in my gut

that felt so right.

It wasn’t until

the laughter had dwindled down

to soft giggles

that pulled at my cheeks

that I fully focused

on Louis’ sharpness.

 

His eyes

were as wide as saucers

as he stared at me

from across the room.

His lips were tight

across his face

with white knuckles

that clenched against his sweats.

I must be making him nervous

I thought

as I watched his guarded attitude

from where I sat.

If I made any sudden move,

something told me

he would flinch.

 

“I’m sorry,”

I tried to take down

those guarded walls

that covered his eyes,

“It’s just that

ive ever really thought of that

and I find it pretty funny.”

I coughed

trying to maneuver my way

around the fear

that filled his oceans.

 

“I guess alcohol was the norm,

it was more acceptable to get

drunk than it was

to get high. Or at least to me.”

I breathed a sigh of relief

as his eyes shrunk in size

and the fear washed out

with the tide

as he gave a short nod

of understanding.

 

We stayed like that

with the silence

and guarded walls

between us

making the tiled floor

seem like untouchable lava

that spanned on for miles

instead of the simple feet

that it measured.

I made him uncomfortable,

the psychomaniac

who just had a laughing fit

over something like alcoholism

in front of him

would obvious shake him up,

so I allowed for him

to watch me

with his deciphering eyes

without comments

or opinionated looks

as he broke me down

for minutes

that  felt like hours

as blue pierced green.

 

“Why did you want

to kill yourself?”

My own words startled me

and I blinked back surprise

just as he did,

only his eyes grew wide again

and his breath caught in his throat

like it was choking him.

He looked so pained,

like my words were daggers

that didn’t just outline him

against the wall,

no,

my worded daggers pierced him

drove themselves into his skin

so far in

that nothing could extract them

and he was left

with the excruciating feeling

of being stabbed

by such a simple question

with such overpowering meaning.

 

“You don’t need to answer.”

It was a miracle

that those words

penetrated through his walls

because I could tell

he was building them

thicker than before

with more height

than could be expected to climb

because he was trying

to save himself

from the openness

that could tear him apart.

 

And I didn’t get my answer

too much my dismay.

For the seconds ticked

ticked

ticked

as his eyes changed emotions

like the tides.

And those aching seconds

turned to angry minutes

that turned by

without any words

being uttered

from his raw-bitten lips.

I wished for his mouth to form

some noise

anything

because I needed that bridge

to bring us both together

by more than just

guarded looks

with glazed over eyes.

 

I watched

with captive hands

as his inner battles

roared over his small voice

and I wanted to help

i felt like i /needed/ to

because his walls

built so high

and so thick

were crumbling around him

and his last defenses

were slowly trickling out.

But I had no assistance to offer,

my hands were tied

arms pulled taut

as I watched the fires in his eyes

overpower the ice

and roaring waters

as the battle grew stronger.

 

But for one moment

the fires paused

hesitated slightly in their attacks

and that

was when Louis found his strength

and he pushed through

the bars of flame.

 

“I have to tell you,

don’t I?”

His words were so small

they barely graced my ears

with their miniscule syllables.

His eyes were closed

as his arms encircled his stomach

even tighter

as to hold his pieces

and his stitches

just tight enough

to keep himself whole.

“Wouldn’t be right

to keep it to myself.”

His laughter

sounded like chains

racking against porcelain

and my wincing against the sound

was perfectly understandable.

 

“You really don’t have too.”

My voice was hushed

and I knew

that I was trying to save him

with my own gentle words

so as to calm down the winds

that were circling his head

and running through his veins

as he tried to keep himself grounded.

 

“No,”

He hissed the word

like acid that housed

on his tongue,

“That’s the thing.

You give me /space/.”

He spat the words,

reeling himself off the bed

with an accusing finger

shaking in my direction.

His body was less broken now

as only one arm

wrapped itself around his frail body

as his gave me

a wrinkle-nosed grimace.

 

“No one has ever given me space,”

He growls with another step

that made my back press harder

into the wall,

“It’s always been boundaries for me.

Do this,”

He spat with more emotion

raging through his veins

than words in his head,

“Do that,”

His step was loud

as it slapped the tile floor

with an unknown authority.

“Follow these rules

and you’re safe.”

Another step

as he pushed himself

even closer towards me

with an uneasy growl

rising in his words.

 

“You were the first person

to give me space,”

His finger was shaking wildly now

as his face grew redder and redder

with angry words

marking his emotional movements

as tears started making their way

to his eyes.

His hands were quick to claw

at the first few tears

as they rolled over the rim

and his head shook

like he was trying to throw his ideas

out into the room

for all to see.

 

“I always wanted space,

I thought I needed it to be /me/,

to be whole again.”

Again,

his hand crawled back to his face

to wipe away the straying tears

that had started forming larger

and started to run

with more frequency.

He was breaking,

breaking even more

than I had ever thought

and I was watching it.

He was a ticking time bomb

and I was here

tied to a chair

and said simply to watch.

“But once I had it,

the freedom I thought would fix me,

I went too wild with it,

and then /you/,

you were there and I just-”

The tears were jumping now

over his eyelids

to roll down his cheeks

like in some kind of race

to see who could cause the sobs

to rake his body

the hardest.

 

I had handled situations like this before

and I knew now was my time

to stray from my bed

and collect this broken boy

from the middle of the room

were his pieces were falling down

left and right

and his stitches were too weak

to stop his demise.

My feet hit the ground with little noise

for his sobs were rippling

through the room

with heartbreaking sounds.

 

I knew wasting time

would only cause more pain

so I was quick to allow my arms

to snake around his frail body,

which was pliant to my touch.

His hands hid his face

as I pulled him over to my own bed

to sit him down and let him fall apart.


End file.
